Under the Surface
by Sweet Lunacy
Summary: Jenny takes a round to the thigh in Europe. Jethro is the only one experienced enough to help.


**A/N: My take on Jenny's round to the thigh. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

To her credit, Jennifer Shepard didn't scream when the bullet ripped into the flesh of her upper thigh. How, she never knew. In the chaos of the firefight, she hit the ground and by the time she had pulled herself back to her feet, the madness had ended. Glancing around her, she was relieved to see that none of their team had been injured (save herself) and Gibbs was already barking orders.

"Shepard, photos. Decker, bag and tag. Burley, handcuff our trigger-happy friend."

Jenny made her way to their van, ignoring the searing pain in her thigh and grabbed the camera. Her face was a mask of determination as she moved around the area and when she paused near Decker, he glanced up at her.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and he sighed.

"I hate when we get bad intel. Makes me feel so stupid."

Jenny nodded again, knowing that he was likely beating himself up over this. It had been his informant who had led them to this ambush, but it wasn't his fault. Not really.

"It happens to the best of us, Will. Don't beat yourself up."

"Hey! You two done socialising? We've got work to do."

They both jumped at the harsh words, and Jenny raised the camera back to her eyes. She tried to pretend that she didn't notice the way her hands were shaking and she could feel the eyes of her team leader following her every move. Blood dripped down her leg and she was immensely thankful that her jeans were dark and for the cover of night. The last thing she needed was to ruin this op.

Gibbs watched the redhead as she photographed the scene and frowned. Something was different about the way she moved, but he couldn't quite place it. Surveying the ground, he noticed a drop of blood on the ground and called to Decker.

"Got blood over here."

Burley frowned.

"How? He wasn't hit."

Burley indicated the man in his grasp, and Gibbs moved his flashlight over him. True to Burley's word, there were no traces of blood on either their shooter nor the agent. Frowning, Gibbs turned to Decker.

"Hey, you hit?"

Decker shook his head and zipped up the plastic bag in his hand. Jenny hadn't spoken a word during the exchange and as Gibbs looked at her, he realised what the look in her eyes really was.

"Shepard."

She didn't answer, and Gibbs walked over to her.

"Shepard," he repeated, "were you hit?"

Silently, Jenny reached for his hand and brought it to her thigh. He could feel the stickiness of blood on his fingertips and when he shone the light on her, it illuminated the stream trickling downward.

"Decker, Burley. Get over here. Shepard's been hit."

"I'm fine, Gibbs."

Her voice was tight and he frowned down at her. Decker and Burley were next to them in seconds and Burley looked at her seriously.

"Why didn't you say something, Red?"

Jenny shook her head and glared at him. Gibbs smirked. She'd learned well.

"I can't risk ruining this op. I'll be fine."

"Jenny, you should've—"

"Will, if it were a fatal shot, I'd be dead already," she snapped, "We can finish up here and deal with it when we're done."

Though he hated to admit it, Decker knew she was right. Jenny stepped away and began photographing again. Twenty minutes later, they were finished and as Gibbs was placing their evidence in his bag, Jenny saw a glint of metal from the corner of her eye. Without hesitation, Jenny pulled her weapon from her side and fired. Her aim was precise and the gun fell from his hand. Burley frowned as the sight of his own gun on the ground registered.

"How'd he get my gun?"

"Must have grabbed it when you cuffed him,"

"Damn, boss. He would have shot you if Jenny hadn't seen it," Decker said quietly.

"Good shot, Shepard."

Jenny had sank to her knees after taking the shot, and her face had drained of all colour, not even hearing their praise. Gibbs could see her shaking from where he stood and quickly made his way to her. He gripped her around the waist and lifted her to her feet, throwing one of her arms around his neck. She protested weakly as he helped her walk and Decker took her other side.

"Burley, get rid of him. I don't care how you do it."

Burley nodded at the order and when he had successfully completed his task, he ran to catch up with the rest of his team. Jenny's steps faltered as she walked and before she could hit the ground, Gibbs had swept her into his arms.

"Gibbs, I can—"

"Shut up, Shepard. I'm not wasting any more time."

He placed her carefully in the back of the van. Looking at her seriously, he tried to ascertain the gravity of their situation.

"We can't go to a hospital, Gibbs. It would blow the op. You were a marine. You've seen men injured in combat. Surely you've dug bullets out before."

Though he knew she was right, this was different than his time in the corps. He'd removed bullets from his men before, hell, he'd even removed a few from his own body before, but never a woman. He could already hear her calling him a chauvinist in his mind, so he chose not to answer her. Instead, he searched her eyes, looking for answers in their viridian depths.

He brought his fingers to her leg, touching her cautiously. He could feel the bullet just under her skin, and he knew she probably could as well.

"Jethro..."

Her voice was soft and her use of his given name caught his attention. He brought his eyes back up to hers, waiting.

"You have to do this. We can't risk it."

"Boss, where to now?"

Gibbs tried to think of any possible alternative. Tried to think of any way that they could manage to arrange a trip to the local hospital. But he knew, deep down, that Jenny had already run these scenarios and come up with the same conclusion. She was right. They had no other choice.

"Back to the safe house. Fast."

* * *

Burley had impressed Gibbs with his driving ability. He wasn't sure that even he himself could have gotten them back to the safe house as quickly. Lifting Jenny into his arms, he ran as fast as he could into the house, heading straight for the bedroom. He set her on the bed, and when he went to the kitchen for supplies, Decker stuck his head around the corner.

"How you holding up, Jenny?"

She shrugged, then winced.

"Could be worse."

"How?"

"I could be on a date with Stan," she quipped.

Decker laughed. At least she hadn't lost her sense of humour. Gibbs returned carrying a myriad of supplies, some she expected, and one other that she didn't.

"Bourbon? Really?"

He shrugged.

"Best I could do. Don't have anything else."

He poured a generous amount into a glass and handed it to her, turning to glare at Decker.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Getting the message loud and clear, Decker bolted from the room, closing the door behind him. Jenny smiled appreciatively. She hadn't particularly wanted an audience for this.

"You're gonna want to drink that before I start," Gibbs said quietly.

She sipped it slowly, grimacing at the taste.

"You can't tell me that you actually enjoy this _paint thinner_?"

He smirked.

"It's an acquired taste. Down in one, Jen. It'll be easier."

Sighing, she raised the glass to her lips. She held her breath and downed it as quickly as possible, hoping that if she didn't hold it in her mouth too long, she wouldn't taste it. She shuddered as it hit her and he laughed softly. She took a breath and gasped as the residual taste assaulted her senses.

"Shut up, Jethro."

He knelt in front of her, all joking aside, and looked into her eyes. There was a shine to them that he wasn't sure about. It could have been caused by pain or liquor and he hoped it was the latter.

"Jen. This isn't going to be pleasant."

"And here I thought this was your idea of foreplay," she said, her words a bit slurred.

He smirked, but he needed her to understand.

"I'm serious. It's going to hurt like hell."

She nodded, reaching up to trace her fingertips along his jawline.

"I know."

He brushed his lips against hers gently, and when she wrapped her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, he smiled.

"I trust you," she whispered.

Kissing her one last time, he grabbed the towel he had brought and opened his pocket knife. He undid the button on her jeans, pulling them down carefully. The last time he had slid her clothing off had been much more pleasant, and he had to force himself to focus on the task at hand rather than her slender legs. As the fabric peeled away from the wound, she tensed and he paused. He really didn't want to do this.

Tossing the denim aside, he examined the wound. It had swollen on their way back to the house, but it didn't appear to be infected. He poured a bit of water on the towel and began gently cleaning the wound. When he was satisfied, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do. Before he could hesitate, Jenny reached out to grab his wrist.

"Jethro."

He glanced up at her and she sighed.

"Give me my belt. It's still in my jeans."

Pulling the leather from the clothing, he handed it to her. He watched, fascinated, as she wound it around her hand and suddenly, he understood. When she nodded, he reached into his pocket for the lighter he'd brought. Lighting the candle on the bedside table, he didn't miss Jenny's soft laugh.

"Romantic. Never would have thought you were the candlelight type, Jethro."

Her words were more slurred now, and he glanced up at her.

"I'm not."

She reached up to thread her fingers in his hair.

"Maybe we could make an exception."

Jenny tugged his shirt and pulled his head down to her, capturing his lips with her own. He pulled away and when he stuck the blade of his knife in the flame, her eyes widened.

"Gotta sterilize it."

She nodded.

"I know. It's just a little unnerving to see it."

She leaned back on the pillows, and he took that as his cue to continue. He rotated the blade a few more times and gave it a few seconds to cool before he leaned over her leg again. He still wasn't sure she understood just how much this was going to hurt, and more than anything, he wished he didn't have to do this. He never wanted to take a knife to one of his own, but with her...he never wanted to hurt her. Especially not like this.

No amount of preparation could have prepared Jenny for the blinding pain that sent spasms through her body. She bit down on the leather belt between her teeth so hard that it hurt, but it was nothing compared to her thigh. Her eyes shut tightly and she swore that she saw white dots behind her closed lids. Her breathing was hard and fast as she fought the scream that threatened to escape her.

Gibbs twisted the knife and she whimpered through her teeth. His fingers probed under her skin, searching for the bullet and Jenny again fought the urge to scream. His fingers withdrew and when he reached for her again, she instinctively crawled up the bed away from his hand. He grabbed her ankle with his hand and was still for a moment.

"Jen, look at me."

She opened her eyes slowly, tear-filled irises locking with his own, and he smiled sadly.

"Jen, I have to get the bullet."

She nodded and relaxed slightly when he traced his finger over her cheek. He inserted the fingers of his right hand into her open flesh and her head fell back against the pillow beneath her. Finally, his fingers found purchase on the metal and he pulled it out, releasing a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Got it."

He set it on the floor and poured more water over the towel, wiping the fresh blood from her skin. He tore a piece of the bed sheet with his teeth and wrapped it tightly around her leg. When he allowed himself a glance up at Jenny, he was relieved to find that she had passed out. At least now she was free from the pain. As he covered her with the blanket, he was painfully aware of just how violently his hands were shaking. He took a drink from the bottle of bourbon and sighed. Leaning down to kiss her forehead lightly, he blew out the candle before letting himself out.

* * *

"How is she?" Decker asked as soon as he saw him.

"Asleep. We'll know more in the morning. I don't think we'll have to cauterize it, but I'll keep an eye on her for the next few hours."

Burley glanced to the door and looked back at his boss, concerned.

"Boss? You okay?"

Gibbs nodded once and Decker frowned. He'd seen their boss in countless life or death situations, but none of them had ever affected him like this. Something about this was different. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the looks that passed between Gibbs and Jenny, the innuendos they traded, the way they bickered at nearly every chance they got. But Decker had also seen the fear in his eyes when he'd realised Jenny had been shot. Something was different about _her_.

"Boss, one of us could sit with her while you get some rest. Gonna be a long night."

Gibbs shook his head at Burley's offer and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. When the bedroom door closed behind him, Burley turned to Decker and smiled.

"How much money you want to bet that they're sleeping together?"

"Shut up, Stan."

* * *

The soft whimper from the bed made Gibbs raise his head and look at the redhead. Her hair was slightly damp and her skin was warm to the touch. He frowned as he placed a hand to her forehead, relieved to see that she wasn't running too high of a fever. She moaned at his touch and shifted away from him, causing him to smile.

"Jethro..."

He touched her face gently, placing a light kiss to her cheek. He took her hand in his own, and when the door opened, he turned at the sound of Decker's voice.

"Brought a fresh towel, boss."

He took it from his outstretched hand, pouring water over it. He placed it on her forehead, frowning as she tossed and turned in her sleep.

"How's she holding up?"

"Slight fever, but it should break in a few hours."

Gibbs pulled the blanket back, very aware of just how much of Jenny's body was being exposed to her colleague. To his credit, Decker's eyes were trained on the bandage wrapped around her thigh and when Gibbs reached for it, he paled. Gibbs carefully peeled back the bandage, checking intently for any signs of infection. It appeared to be healing well, and he tore another piece of the sheet.

As his hand tied the sheet, the pressure caused Jenny's eyes to open slowly, a frown on her pretty face.

"J-Jethro?"

Decker wisely made no comment on her use of his given name and as he watched, Jenny reached weakly for his hand.

"How do you feel?"

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"I feel like running a marathon."

"Cute, Shepard."

"You could probably still beat Stan," Decker laughed.

For the first time, Jenny noticed his presence and she smiled.

"Where _is_ Stan?" she asked.

Decker jerked his head toward the living room and she nodded. She attempted to sit up and winced at the pain that shot through her body. Gibbs leaned down and helped her to a sitting position, handing her a glass of fresh bourbon. She eyed it warily, no doubt remembering the last time she'd tasted it, but took it nonetheless. She downed it quickly, grimacing as it burned down her throat.

Bending down, Decker picked up the bullet that Gibbs had removed from her thigh and held it out to her.

"Hey, Jenny, got a souvenir for you."

He dropped the tiny piece of metal into her hand and she looked at it thoughtfully.

"I'll wear it as a necklace," she remarked dryly.

Gibbs smirked and Jenny winced as she laughed. The door opened again and Stan stuck his head in the door.

"How you doing, Jenny?"

"Nice of you to stop in after the hard part's over," Gibbs snapped.

Stan dropped his gaze to the floor and it wasn't until he heard Jenny's laughter that he realised his boss was joking. Gibbs smiled at the sound of her laugh, not realising until now just how close he'd come to losing her. Decker watched Jenny as she laughed and when he noticed how pale she'd become, he frowned.

"Jenny?"

There was an edge to Decker's voice and it made Gibbs turn. Before any of them could move, Jenny's eyes had rolled back into her head and her body slumped forward. Gibbs caught her and laid her down more evenly on the bed. He checked her pulse, and when he was satisfied that she was in no immediate danger, he released his hold on her.

"She okay?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Pain must have been worse than we thought."

Decker snorted.

"Well, if you hadn't seen her blood on the ground, who knows when she would have even told us about getting hit."

He had a point, Gibbs realised. Jenny hadn't given any indication that she was injured, nor that she had intended to tell them. Tell _him_. Though he knew her intentions had been good, Gibbs couldn't help the irrational anger that flared up inside him. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face and stood, throwing Decker and Burley a look.

"Stay with Shepard. I'm going to check our supplies and make coffee."

* * *

Jenny's low moan caused Decker to look at her and Burley frowned.

"Should we try to wake her?"

Decker's head shook.

"Let her sleep."

Jenny's hair was strewn about the pillow in a flaming waterfall and Burley smiled.

"She is pretty, isn't she?"

"Mhm.."

"Lucky thing she saw that gun. Boss would've been dead."

Another whimper came from the unconscious redhead and she turned restlessly.

"Jethro..."

Decker and Burley looked at each other, smirking. Jenny's eyes opened, glazed and unfocused, landing on Decker.

"Jethro?"

"It's Will, Jenny."

Her brow furrowed and she tried to sit up.

"Will? Where's Gibbs?"

Decker smiled and took her hand, kissing it gently.

"Went to make coffee. How bad is it, Jenny?"

She winced as she raised herself up and Burley couldn't help but notice that her eyes were still glassy.

"Hurts like hell," she admitted.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. Burley stood and leaned over her, touching her shoulder.

"Want a glass of water?"

She smiled at him and he headed for the door. When he had gone, Jenny smirked, looking at Decker.

"Doesn't do well around injured people, does he, Will?"

"Stan? He's a wimp."

Jenny laughed and positioned herself more comfortably on the bed. Her eyes widened when Gibbs opened the door, coffee in one hand, water in the other. Decker took his return as his cue to leave, closing the door quietly behind him. Even through the haze of her pain, Jenny could tell something was wrong.

"Jethro?"

"When were you going to tell me?"

Her tired mind struggled to keep up with his train of thought and she frowned.

"What?"

"When were you going to tell me that you'd been shot?"

"I didn't want—"

"Damn it, Jen! You could have died. You should have said something."

"Jethro, I'm fine. It wasn't a fatal—"

"Jen, I can't lose you! You mean too much to me. I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you."

He hadn't said the words, but his meaning was clear. He pulled her to him as tightly as he dared, kissing her hair. She gripped his shirt tightly, and when he brought his lips to hers, she deepened the kiss immediately. He forced himself to pull away and when he found her eyes, he noticed how glassy they were.

"How bad?"

She shook her head, not wanting to admit that she was in an immense amount of pain. He saw through her and tipped her head back, kissing her throat. She moaned lightly and when he had her where he wanted her, he stopped.

"Answer me, Jen."

"Bad enough."

He kissed her again and stood straight. Just before he reached the door, he turned around, flashing her a smile that made her weaker than she already was.

"When you're up to it, I'll show you just how much you mean to me."

"I can't wait."

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like fine wine. They make me smile.**


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